Since the start of the year I have been finishing things.
I finished the blue granny-square blanket for the apartment. A vast and snuggly expanse of crochet for our new apartment.
I finished a pair of socks made from Tosh Sock in the colourway ‘Fjord’. It really does look like little fjords, the way the yarn plays out its colour.
I finished a small green bracelet with a simple cable design.
I finished a tiny pair of handwarmers whilst watching Supernatural from the rest of the Tosh Sock since I was loath not to use it.
I finished a pair of socks with Cascade 220 yarn (my first time with it!) for a good friend. No pictures because she must see them first.
And it’s not just knitting/crochet that I’ve been finishing. I’ve read books:
- The Hunger Games Trilogy (again),
- Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte,
- The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss,
- Changeless by Gail Carrigan,
- Son of a Witch by Gregory Maguire,
- Stories, a book of short stories compiled by Neil Gaiman,
- KnitLits One and Two by Linda Roghaar and Molly Wolf,
- The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald,
- Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen, and
- Les Miserables by Victor Hugo.
More than a book a week since the year started alongside all that knitting. And I’ve loved all of them, since I’ve decided to stop finishing books I don’t like.
I finished a short story about an angel and I’m pleased with it. This may not seem like much but I have been suffering from crippling self doubt/writers’ block for the past two years and have been unhappy with anything I’ve dared to write.
Despite rarely having internet, I finished a few coherent blog posts.
And now I’m finishing this one.